the coldest story ever told
by ohlalayssa
Summary: inspired by the song 'heartless' by kanye west, it's set when the gang is around twenty-six years old. a very angsty eric/jackie relationship-based story. rated M for potential future themes, but right now, it's very much just T.
1. CHAPTER ONE, a woman so heartless

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own anything mentioned. i wish i did, but i don't. no copyright infringement was intended.

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JACQUELINE BURKHART.

Things had changed too much over the past ten years – far too much. Steven had married a stripper, I'd gone and had a momentary lapse of judgment and dated Fez, Eric had returned from Africa an exceptionally changed person. But then Steven and Sam had quickly parted ways, I had realized that I was stupid, Fez found another busty blonde to woo, and Eric seemed to return to the same irritating, Star Wars obsessed dork he was before he shipped off to Africa. Steven and I had given it another try, actually. I'd been accepted into this brilliant college that was renowned for its amazing television journalism department, and Steven had moved out with me – completely disregarding the fact that it was in New York and telling me that I was important enough for the move. I'd fooled myself into thinking that that was a big step, that maybe that was his way of saying that we'd wind up married. But I went through my four years in college and was even given a slot as weather girl on some big shot program in Chicago, and Steven had once again moved with me. But then we'd had the same fight we had five years ago – I wanted to get married, he didn't. He left, and watching him go was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But I think, deep down, I knew that it was the right thing. I was twenty-three years old; I couldn't wait around for someone who wasn't ever going to marry me.

And it was around that time that I met Lawrence Edwards – he was a hot, muscular professional football player turned sports caster, and he worshipped the ground I walked on from the second we locked eyes over a delicious vodka apple-tini. He was everything Steven wasn't – rich, successful, good head on his shoulders, twice my age, and adored me and spoiled me out of my mind. I relished in the attention, and when he got down on one knee with a diamond the size of Montana, I couldn't say no. I couldn't say I was in love, either, but you don't say no to a Tiffany's diamond. And Lawrence was the kind of husband I'd wanted since I was little, and I didn't hesitate for even a second when I stood up in front of that priest with the giant diamond glittering on my finger in an expensive, lavish designer wedding dress. Donna and I had kept in touch over the years, and she'd naturally been my maid of honor, and Red had (he feigned irritation, but I knew he never really minded) been the one to give me away because I wasn't on speaking terms with my father. But Steven hadn't attended, and neither had Eric, and I couldn't figure out why I was upset about either. Steven had broken my heart, and Eric was... well... _Eric._ Kitty said it was just because I'd wanted all the pieces of high school with me, and I believed her for a while. I'd forgotten all about them by the time Lawrence whisked me back to his brilliantly massive estate and showered me in expensive wedding presents. I was happy. Or, rather, that was what I had convinced myself of.

I had just celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday, and maybe it was the fact that none of my core group of friends were there or the fact that I'd never felt old before, but I found myself on one of Lawrence's jets to Point Place, Wisconsin. I looked so out of place that it was comical, with my designer pumps and my crisp black Chanel skirt suit set and a beautiful leather designer bag settled in the crook of my arm. I pulled off my oversized sunglasses to survey the scene – frankly, it was no different than when I left. Which is why I felt the sudden urge to hop back into the chauffeured car Lawrence had sent for me and just head right back to Chicago, and I was actually about to, but was quickly bombarded by a pair of small arms wrapped around my thin legs. "Woah, woah, get off," I snapped at the little girl that was clinging to my legs, my brow furrowing irritably. I'd never been one for children. She showed no signs of letting go, and I started to try and shake my legs a bit, but still to no avail. "Look, kid, I don't know what your parents taught you but-"

"Jackie?"

I glanced up quickly, my eyes immediately widening, slightly relieved as the little girl unwrapped herself from my legs and launched herself at the tall man in front of me with a muffled "Daddy!". I tilted my head to the side slightly, a smirk settling on my perfectly made-up red lips, brushing hair from my eyes with a perfectly manicured hand. "Michael Kelso," I said in amusement, letting my eyes roam up and down him slowly. "You haven't changed a bit," I said with a soft laugh before rolling my eyes and groaning as he all but launched himself at me, squeezing me in one of his typical bear hugs. "Michael… Michael, don't do that," I pleaded, "this suit is _Chanel_. Michael, you'll wrinkle it!" He let me go with a laugh, but I was sure it was just because Betsy was pulling on his pant leg, and not my desperate attempt to save my suit.

"You look so… so… _designer_," he said with a raised eyebrow, and I wasn't sure whether it was supposed to be a compliment or some sort of condescending comment. Then again, it was Michael Kelso we were talking about, and I was sure he didn't even know how to spell 'condescending', much less know what it meant. "But maybe being some big hot-shot trophy wife does that to you," he smirked, nudging my arm as my face fell. I knew Lawrence was some high-profile man, but I never imagined I'd skyrocket to be the other half of a high-profile couple. It had shocked even me, the attention craving weather girl, when our wedding had made the gossip magazines and the front page of the sports section. "Which begs the question – what the hell are you doing back here?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer him, because I honestly couldn't figure out an answer. It had been a spur of the moment thing, and Lawrence had been all too happy to please me, and sent me off on one of his jets without a second thought. I glanced down at my bright red shoes, as though they held all the answers, and hadn't even realized I wasn't speaking until I felt Michael's large hand tugging on my arm. "C'mon, Jackie, we're going to see the Formans."

And just like that, without any urging at all, I found myself packing into his replacement van, stepping delicately around a pair of socks and listening to Betsy scream and wail in the backseat. When we pulled into the Forman's driveway and I stepped out onto the asphalt, I couldn't help but feel like I was home.

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**Author Notes: **read&review, kthnx. 3 haha, seriously, let me know what you think! i'll be going in between eric and jackie's point of view, to shake things up i guess. xD hope you like this chapter!


	2. CHAPTER TWO, it's still so lonely

**Disclaimer:** no copyright infringement was intended; i own nothing.

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ERIC FORMAN.

Things had changed too much by the time I got back from Africa to salvage much of my high school life. Donna had moved on, and even though we'd tried to give our relationship another try, it only lasted a matter of weeks before we agreed we were better off on our own. I hadn't been with many girls after that – in fact, it was only a whopping two over the five or six year span. The first was a drunken waste of time. I'd been wallowing in self-pity at a bar, had one too many beers, and woke up next to a pretty blonde that I wouldn't ever have a chance with if she hadn't been drunk at the time. The second had been pretty serious, actually. Evelyn. She was a brunette and she was beautiful, smart, educated. She was everything I'd wanted, and yet at the same time, everything I was scared of being with. How could someone like her possibly want someone like me? I kept reasoning with myself that it was because I was so cute in that dorky, endearing way, and managed to keep that up, because she didn't leave. In fact, she was the one that insisted we move in together after we hit the one year mark. So, in what I guessed was some weird lapse of judgment on her part, I moved in with her. And still, she didn't leave. She even turned down a position at some high-class law firm for me. _Me_. The high school English teacher who had practically no money to his name, and she had turned it down for me. I thought I'd finally done something right – thought I'd finally bagged someone perfect.

Of course, we all know happy endings don't exist. At least, not for me.

I came home to an empty apartment, and didn't think anything about it at first. But then I'd gone into the bedroom, and her closet was open and there was nothing left except for a sweater she knew I loved on her. Her beauty products weren't to the side of the sink, her shampoo wasn't in the shower, and her key was sitting on the kitchen counter on top of a quickly scrawled note. She said there was someone else, that she was sorry, that she didn't want to hurt me. I just remember being so angry, so frustrated with myself for ever thinking someone like Evelyn would settle for someone like me that I pulled a girl – I ate stupid ice cream, and I chucked out everything that reminded me of her. And then, as a final, solidifying gesture, returned the engagement ring I'd spent three years of my salary on. That was the first time I think I'd ever had my heart broken, truly broken.

When I was twenty-five, I got some wedding invitation from Jackie – it baffled even me, and I almost considered going. But I was still wallowing in self-pity, and hadn't made it. My parents had been irritated with me, and Red had even literally kicked me in the ass when they got back to Point Place, but I didn't even care. I didn't care about much anymore, really. It was pathetic, and I knew it. Utterly pathetic. Even my students noticed that there was something wrong, and a few of the girls went so far as to bombard me after class and try to rope me into 'talking about my feelings'. But I was too old for that bull-shit, too tired for it.

But I got over it, just like I got over everything else. I got over Donna, I got over all the shit I'd seen in Africa, and I got over Red kicking my ass for not going to Jackie's wedding. That's what I did best – I got over things. I didn't hold grudges. I just wasn't that kind of person. I wanted to be, but I couldn't bring myself to. Hell, I couldn't even so much as dislike Evelyn, even after what she'd done. I was too much of a push-over, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew it, and everyone took advantage of it. Donna still made fun of me for it, tried to make me into a suitable 'man'. But it never worked. Nothing ever works.

I'd been kicking back on the couch with a beer, watching some rather unpleasant soap opera that Evelyn used to watch, when I heard the phone ring. I had the urge to just stay where I was at and not answer it, but chances were that it was my mother, and she'd probably run right over here to make sure I wasn't dead if I didn't pick up. Slowly and irritably, I stood and hopped over the back of the couch, grabbing the phone up on the fifth ring. "Hello?" I asked groggily, stifling a yawn.

"Eric, Eric, sweetie! Jackie's in town!"

Why on earth my mother thought that I would care, much less need to know, that Jackie Burkhart – or, I'm sorry, Jackie Burkhart-Edwards now – was in Point Place was beyond me. "Uhm, that's great?"

"Eric, I want you to come over. She wants to see you, sweetie."

"Wait, really? She asked to see me?"

"Well, umm, not exactly, but I know that she does! I can see it in her eyes!"

"Jesus, mom, do I have to? I mean, she and I never re-"

"Eric Forman, you get your butt over to this house or so help me god I'll send Red after you."

I hung up the phone with an irritated sigh, passing a hand over my face before taking another sip of my beer. Going to visit Jackie was probably the last thing I'd wanted to do today, and I didn't want to be the one to tell her that Hyde hadn't spoken to any of us since they broke up except for the few times he needed bail money. Drugs. Jacking cars. Not that she'd care anyway, what with her rich husband and getting everything handed to her on a silver platter. It wouldn't surprise me if there was some nice car or a limo in my parents' driveway, sent by that rich husband of hers. I grabbed the set of keys to the Vista Cruiser and hustled out the door, not exceptionally looking forward to coming face to face with Jackie Burkhart after almost six years apart.

(FYI, there was an extremely nice car with a foreign man in the front seat parked next to Kelso's van. Spoiled bitch.)

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**Author Notes: **this one got put up REALLY fast after the first one, i know. xD it's just because i had these two done at the same time, so i figured i would put them up at the same time, haha. i'm not sure if i managed to do eric right, so let me know! men are NOT my strong suit. read&review, please. 3


	3. CHAPTER THREE, i hear them talk

**Disclaimer: **i own nothing, seriously. wish i did, but i don't. no copyright infringement was intended.

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JACQUELINE BURKHART.

"Really, Mrs. Forman, you don't have to do this. It's no big deal," I said quickly, trying to dig my heels into the floor and stop the blonde woman from shoving me into the living room. "I'm only here for a week or two."

"Nonsense, sweetheart! We haven't seen you since you got married! Everyone will be just thrilled," she coaxed, pushing her hands against my lower back almost roughly and with such force that I was surprised – she always seemed so… tame, to say the least. And weak. But, might I say now, Kitty Forman is _not_ weak.

"Jackie!" Donna said, extending her arms towards me and enveloping me in a tight hug, and I found myself hugging her back just as tightly. I didn't realize until now how much I'd missed her; sure, we talked on the phone and wrote back and forth, but it wasn't the same as actually being here. I stifled a laugh as I caught a glimpse of an excited Fez bouncing up and down behind Donna, extending his arms wide.

"Gimme," he said, wiggling his fingers in a most amusing manner before I laughed and stepped into his open arms. "I have missed you, my little goddess," he told me with a matter-of-fact nod, looking down at me. He'd grown since I'd last seen him, which was about a year ago at the wedding. His pants weren't nearly as tight as I remembered either, and I couldn't help but be slightly relieved. It was always awkward to have a conversation with him when you knew that, as soon as you looked down, you'd be looking right at his package, accentuated in a pair of too-tight trousers.

Michael stood off to the side, holding Betsy in his arms even though she was getting too big for it. Brooke was beside him, and quickly made her way over to hug me gingerly after Fez finally let go. Even Red came over and, with a gruff cough, gave me a quick, stiff hug before Kitty once again pounced on me. I took this as an opportunity to glance around the room, noticing that nothing had changed. The same puke colors, the same small television set, even the same smell. But I noticed that Steven was not around, nor was Eric. Part of the reason I'd reasoned myself into going to Point Place was so that I could see Steven – more for… closure, I kept telling myself. I could tell him I was married, explain that I was over him, and that would be that. As for Eric – ehh, I wouldn't lie and say I was disappointed that he wasn't there, because I wasn't. We'd never been close, ever.

I was yanked from my reverie by the cry from Kitty, who finally untangled herself from me, giving me a chance to sit delicately on the edge of the couch. I didn't want the utter ugliness of the couch to taint the Chanel. I finally allowed myself to glance up at who she'd darted for after making sure my hair was still perfect (of course it was – when was it not perfect?), making eye contact with the last person I'd expected to see. He hadn't changed much, not really. He was still tall and gangly, but there was something… different at the same time. His forearms held a bit more muscle, his hair was shaggier, and he had a hint of facial hair on him – it was nice to know he'd finally hit puberty. I smiled at him, getting up and walking over to him, still not accustomed to the way my high heels didn't click on carpet (we had hard wood floors in practically the entire house back in Chicago) and gently wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Hi, Eric."

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ERIC FORMAN.

She was more beautiful than I remembered. Absolutely, all-consuming-ly radiant. She was tanner than she was in high school, and her chest had… well, it had come in extremely nicely, to say the least. She looked more like a Barbie doll now, and I supposed it was because of that rich husband of hers – giving her anything she asked so she'd stay with him, because why else would a twenty-five year old stay with someone twice her age if there wasn't money? I was, however, pleasantly surprised when I felt her almost sickeningly thin arms wrap around my waist, and glanced down at her for a minute before gently and briefly wrapping my arms around her in return. "Uhh, hey, Jackie," was all I could think of, because what else do you say to someone you haven't seen for near six years?

She glanced up at me, flashed a dazzling smile, and quickly trotted back over to Donna, giggling as the two of them retreated back into the kitchen. I found myself staring after her, almost confused, and reaching up to scratch the back of my neck before I felt someone clap me on the back roughly.

"Nice to see you came out of that hell hole," Red said gruffly, slamming my back once more as I gasped, coughing quietly and trying to straighten.

"Yeah, well, Mom threatened me," I replied simply, glancing at my mother, who was perched on the edge of that puke-colored couch as though she was a queen, talking in that fast voice of hers to Kelso and Brooke. Brooke was pregnant again, and it was still a mystery to just about all of us as to why she'd willingly have sex with him again.

"As she damn well should – you need to get your head out of your ass and get over that girl," he told me sternly, clapping me on the back a final time and, with a last withering look, walked off to sit next to Mom, who was still in an animated conversation with Brooke.

I stood by myself for a few minutes, just trying to figure out where I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do, when it dawned on me that Red always had beer in the fridge – I could use a beer. I took a detour through the dining room so I didn't have to walk through the wall of people situated in the living room, and nearly plowed into Donna on her way out.

"Sorry," I mumbled, slipping by her and grabbing the beer nearest to the door of the refrigerator. I could feel Donna and Jackie's eyes on me, but I didn't feel like talking to them. Donna knew about everything that had happened with Evelyn, and she knew by now not to bother me about it. I blew up at her the last time she tried to help, and even though I felt terrible about it, it was her own fault for not minding her own business. I did, however, brace myself for the nosy creature that was Jacqueline Burkhart, preparing to come up with a million excuses – anything to avoid talking about Evelyn. Naturally, I was surprised when the two women exchanged quick good-byes before Jackie settled down at the kitchen table.

"Bring me one, will you?"

I hesitated, taking a minute to fully realize that she wanted me to bring her a beer. I shrugged before reaching back into the refrigerator, practically hitting her when I turned around because, apparently, she had crept up behind me – which seems impossible, seeing as she was in sky-high heels and on tile. I extended it towards her casually, walking to lean against the counter. "Why are you back?" I asked her, not altogether pleasant, I decided.

"What, am I not allowed to drop in an visit all the little people?" she asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow as she cracked open the beer and downed a good-sized sip. It was nice to see that despite her looking altogether perfect she didn't hesitate to throw back a beer.

"Not when those 'little people' are in Point Place, Wisconsin, little miss Chicago," I told her, smirking down at my beer as I heard her laugh softly. "Seriously, Jackie."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"I… don't know. I just think I needed to get away. You start to feel suffocated when you're… stuck like I am. Trapped. I had to get out, you know?" she asked, looking over at me, moving to lean against the counter a few inches from me. "So, I hopped on one of his jets and flew out."

"Well, we always knew you'd marry into money," I said with a grin, nudging her in the shoulder as I took another swig of my beer. "But, really, I didn't think you'd come _here_ if you felt trapped. I figured people like you would go to Florida. Or California."

She laughed then, a pretty, bell kind of laugh, and I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, well, I guess I just wanted to feel young again," she told me, downing the rest of her beer in one long drink, setting the bottle down next to her. "But what about you? Weren't you supposed to be going back to Africa?"

"I was," I started, carefully. "But I couldn't do it. Saw too much the last time I was there; I couldn't handle going bad. A bit pathetic, I know, but I didn't think I could stomach any more of it."

"It was that bad?"

She said it so quietly that I had to strain to hear her, and even when I did, I thought I had missed it. She'd never been an exceptionally quiet person before, so I was caught slightly off guard by the tiny, almost meek sound to her usually loud and piercing voice.

"Yeah, it was."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

She glanced over at me, setting her small hand on my forearm gently, offering a pretty smile. "It was nice to see you, Eric," she said softly, using her other hand to brush a bit of hair from her eyes quickly.

"You too, Jackie," I replied, almost at a loss for words. I just watched her for a minute, taking in her big, doe brown eyes and her smooth, tan skin of her face before she blushed and turned. I watched silently as she grabbed her purse off the kitchen table and slowly started to walk out the screen door, and eagerly smiled back when she paused just in the doorway to turn and smile back at me. I watched until she stepped into the backseat of the chauffeured car, and even until the car drove out of the driveway. I watched until I couldn't see it anymore, and when I turned back around and downed the rest of my beer, I couldn't understand why I did it. And frankly, I didn't care to figure out why.

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**Author's Notes: **thank you lots to everyone who's reviewed and favorited the story! i love you all already haha. read&review, please and thank you! i have a question, though! are you more comfortable with written out sex scenes or would you prefer more of an assumed scene? i know some people aren't comfortable with reading about people doing the nasty haha, and i don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. let me know, because these two'll definitely be having some fun later on xD


	4. CHAPTER FOUR, cold as the winter wind

**disclaimer: **i own nothing, and no copyright infringement was intended.

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JACQUELINE BURKHART.

"Sweetheart, I know, but it's just for a few days. No, I know. Yes. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. I just… need some time off. I know, I will. I love you, too." I hung up with a sigh, curling up slowly on the bed. After I left Eric in his kitchen, I'd attempted to go to a hotel, but Kitty had caught wind and all but forced me into the bed in her guest room. It was a nice thought, and I appreciated it, but it was still awkward for me. I wasn't used to having to put clothes on when I walked around the house, because Lawrence never minded if I walked around naked, and the staff was always more behind-the-scenes. But Red and Eric had already caught me at least two times each, so I'd been forced to try and get back into the habit of putting clothes on when I got out of the shower. Not that I really thought either of them minded, of course. The looks on their faces was more than enough to say they didn't.

"Jackie? You decent?"

I heard Eric knock lightly on my door, and could tell he was hesitating slightly. It was nice of him to not just barge in, at least, considering I was in his house.

"Uhh, yeah," I told him, wrapping the blue silk robe tighter around myself to better conceal myself. I was shocked to find myself glancing into the mirror on the bedside table, fluffing my hair and making sure my mascara hadn't run from when I'd been crying. It was just Eric, after all. I didn't have to look like a beauty queen for him. "You can come in."

He opened the door slowly, glancing down at his feet as he finally stepped into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "You okay?"

His question startled me, and I raised an eyebrow, leaning back against my pillows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just… you always sound, I don't know, upset when you're talking to him." Eric risked a glance up at me, and when he saw that I wasn't fuming, he quickly walked over to perch on the end of my bed. "Not that I listen in on your every conversation or anything," he told me with a quick grin, an almost sheepish look on his face.

"It's nothing," I told him quietly, reaching over the bedside table to grab my nail file. "Really, it's not," I added, because when I looked over at him, he had an extremely skeptical look on his face.

"Are you happy with him?" He asked me, watching me, seemingly genuinely curious, and I found myself staring right back at him, suddenly unsure of myself. How do I answer a question like that? I can't exactly tell him all the things I want to tell someone, because it's Eric. He wouldn't understand. Or, even if he did, he'd laugh at me for it.

"O-of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" I found myself repeating the same question I'd asked him not even moments before, as though I was trying to get him to get off the topic. He looked at me with that same skeptical look, and I found myself tossing my nail file to the floor angrily, crossing my arms over my chest. "No, I'm not."

That wasn't the answer he expected, because he looked almost taken aback by my miniature outburst, but there was no hint of any kind of amusement on his face, which surely was a good sign. "I didn't think so."

"I mean, sure, I like that he spoils me. I like that he pampers me. I like that he lets me do whatever the hell I want and pays for whatever the hell I want but… I don't love him." It was the first time I had ever said it out loud, to anyone, and I could've smacked myself for it. He didn't want to hear about my marriage woes, and I didn't want to whine. I was a strong woman, I didn't whine.

"Then why are you still with him?" He seemed genuinely confused, frowning at me.

I didn't have an answer for him.

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ERIC FORMAN.

"Jackie, you've been in there for an hour!" I told her, once again pounding on the door in exasperation. I should be used to this at this point, considering she's been crashing at my place for a few days now, after she got too uncomfortable staying at my parents' house. I offered her the second bedroom at my place, and she jumped at the offer. Of course, she still hadn't realized that she wasn't the only one that needed the bathroom, because I – unlike her – had a job here.

"Oh, sweetie, no matter how many times you wash it, your hair is going to look just as greasy," I heard her call back, and scowled at the door. Same old Jackie. Better looking, but still the same old Jackie.

I gave up trying to force her out, instead taking a seat on the couch and flipping on the TV. It wasn't anything interesting, but it helped to take my mind off the fact that I had an extremely hot girl bathing in my bathroom. I mean, I shouldn't even be thinking about her like that – for one, she was married, and it was _Jackie_. The devil's spawn, or even the devil reincarnated. And yet, for the past few days that she'd been living with me, I couldn't help but think about her like that. I wanted to kick my own ass for it.

"What do you think?"

I turned around when I heard her, and my jaw would've dropped if I hadn't caught myself. She looked… well, stunning. Her hair was in soft curls, her make-up was flawless, and the dress was… wow. Hugged her in all the right places, was low cut, and it showed off those legs of hers. Not that I, you know, looked at them often or anything.

"Where are you going?" I asked her, confused as to why she was getting so dressed up. It was just Point Place; it wasn't like there were any expensive dinners to go to with your rich husband.

"We're going out, silly!" She told me, looking at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're taking me to the nicest restaurant in town, and then we're going to a club. So, you know, go get dressed." She watched me for a minute, and when I didn't move, she stuck one hand on her hip and jerked a thumb back towards my room. "_Now_."

I couldn't very well object, and simply walked back to my room submissively, still a little puzzled. Was she honestly so desperate to get out that she wanted to go to dinner with me? The idea absolutely baffled me, but I guessed that I couldn't do much about it. Jackie got what Jackie wanted, all the time and every time. She'd probably kill me in my sleep if I didn't take her out.

She was leaning over her feet on my couch, slipping on a pair of dangerously high heels when I finished dressing, and she beamed at me when she caught sight of me. "You clean up nice, Forman," she told me matter-of-factly, walking over to me and patting my arm. "Oh, and we're taking my car. I wouldn't be caught dead in _yours_," she told me, her voice dripping in disdain at the thought of the Vista Cruiser. Again, not that I minded. Being driven around in an expensive car by a chauffer? Who in their right mind would say no to that?

********

By the time we'd finished dinner and were in the car on the way to the club of Jackie's choice, I wasn't actually dreading it. I surprised myself thinking about it, but dinner had been… nice, actually. She wasn't nearly as snobby or bitchy as she'd been back in high school, and she seemed genuinely curious about my time in Africa. She still wouldn't talk to me about what was going on with her and Lawrence, but she didn't have to. I could tell something was wrong just by the look in her eyes whenever I mentioned him, and it almost hurt me to know that she was in a marriage like that. But, it wasn't my place to interfere, so I didn't. I just paid for her dinner like a gentleman.

Naturally, with one of her dazzling smiles and a flirtatious giggle, we got into the club with no problem. She grabbed my hand and yanked me through the crowd to the bar, slipping up onto a bar stool. I watched in amazement as she simply leaned over the bar with a demure smile and the bartender immediately walked away from the group of women he'd been in the process of serving to ask her what she wanted.

"Vodka appletini," she said huskily, flashing another smile before he quickly turned around to get her drink. "You want anything?" she asked me, looking at me over her shoulder.

"No, no, I'm good," I told her, glancing around me at the people dancing like maniacs to the too-loud, too-much-bass music. I knew there was a reason I hated clubs.

"Thank you, handsome," she told the bartender with a wink, reaching up to take her drink from his hand. It was in that moment that I noticed she wasn't wearing her wedding ring, and I was slightly baffled. She was constantly making a big deal out of that ring, flashing it at everyone who walked by her, because it was so ridiculously large and overly expensive. I almost asked her about it, but I didn't want to bother her, so I kept my mouth shut.

"We're dancing," she informed me, sipping her appletini and using her free hand to grab my arm and pull me after her out into the throng of dancers. She started swaying her hips back and forth in time with the music, sipping her appletini casually and watching me quietly. I stood there, dumbfounded, because I'd never been a dancer. I mean, I could roller disco with the best of them, but stick me in a club and I was absolutely lost. "You're not dancing," she told me, tilting her head to the side. "It's not hard."

I looked at her, bewildered, because surely she knew how much of a failure I was at doing anything relatively contemporary. I glanced down as she used her free hand to grab my hand and set it on her hip, then took my other hand and set it on the other side. "You just move back and forth," I heard her tell me, but I was so thrown off by the fact that my hands were resting on her hips that I wasn't sure if I heard her right or not.

She started moving her hips faster and faster in time with the music, my hands moving with her, and I would occasionally sway one way or another whenever she took a drink of her appletini, taking care to not stand too close to her.

Of course, three appletinis for her and two beers for me later, and we were quite a bit closer. Alright, a lot closer. She was pressed up against me, dancing up and down my body and just generally making me nervous. How was it that she was comfortable enough with herself that she could act all seductive and coy? Not that I really minded, even if I wanted to.

"You don't have to keep your hands to yourself," she breathed in my ear before dancing down my body again, keeping her eyes locked on me. I was sure she was drunk, and that was surely the reason she was acting like this. And, no matter what she told me, I should be keeping my hands to myself.

Too bad I didn't.

* * *

**Author's Note:** sorry this took me so long to update! school's been kicking my ass. xD i hope you enjoy this chapter, and next chapter is going to be all sexy, so if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, don't read the next chapter i post. :] read&review, please!


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